The Joker's On You
by Allessondra Octavia
Summary: Takes place during the two movies. Rachel has a secret admirer! Who could be? Harvey Dent? Bruce Wayne? Jonathan Crane! And who's this Joker guy? Rated M for blood, gore, and innuendo.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I wasn't going to post this until it was finished, but in loving memory and celebration of Heath Ledger's 33rd birthday today I had to upload at least the first chapter 3** **This story is still in progress of being editing, so look out for changes here and there.**

Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes stared at the little red tag attached to a decently sized box of chocolate on the ground in front of her door. Picking it up, all the tag said was "From: Your Secret Admirer." Immediately she thought of Bruce Wayne. Then again, he probably would've gone for something much more extravagant than a relatively non-expensive box of _Godiva._

Going through a mental list of possible admirers Rachel unlocked her apartment door and set the chocolates on the dining table along with her briefcase and coat. That Harvey Dent who's running for the position of her boss has been paying an awful lot of attention to her as of late, Dr. Crane as a joke, any one of the mob bosses to get her attention away from them. She frowned; what if the chocolates were poisoned? Without a second thought, Rachel grabbed the box again and threw it into the trashcan.

"That kind of thing won't work on me," she said to herself smugly.

Sighing, she got back into work mode: the Joker killings. She opened her briefcase and pulled out the reports from each crime scene. It all started over half a year ago a week after the train crash. A man wearing clown makeup was reported seen killing a group of gang members, leaving a joker card on one of the bodies. Every few days since then he's killed another member or members from the Mob, leaving the card and his victims' faces with Glasgow smiles, occasionally robbing a bank or two a month. To Rachel, it's as if he's building his fame and trying to fight against the rise of Batman. By now, the entire Mob is terrified to even go outside because of the masked vigilante. Not this clown guy; he's using the fear to his advantage.

The problem is that no one in the Gotham City Police Department sees him as much of a threat compared to the entire Mob. Now that Carmine Falcone is locked up in Arkham, every notable gang is attempting to rise to the top without being caught by Batman. Why is the "Joker" just now appearing? Where did he come from? Who is he really? These types of questions the public keeps asking, and the only person that seems to be attempting to answer them is Rachel.

The next morning on her way out, the assistant D.A. flipped through her mail. It was when she got in the car that she came upon the red envelope addressed to her in the same handwriting as the _Godiva_ box's tag. No return address or name other than hers. With a raised eyebrow, she opened it and pulled out the contents: a letter.

_Dear Miss Dawes, _

_Did you like the chocolates? _Godiva _seems to suit you: lovely, smooth outer shell and a mysterious yet delectable filling on the inside. There are many different kinds in there, you know. I ended up getting a box for myself and trying each one. Which one is your favorite? Mine is the white chocolate raspberry-filled star._

_Your secret admirer_

_P.S. If you do respond, simply write on the back and place the envelope back in the mailbox, I'll pick it up and respond in time for mail in the morning. _

The recipient of the strange letter was at a crossroads. Should she take the letter down to the Department to get fingerprints, or respond herself trying to figure out who this person was? Not wanting to bother her colleagues, she decided to quickly write back and do as he (it could very well be a she, she mused) said to reply. The suspicion of it being a joke was starting to seem more likely than someone she knew.

_ Dear Secret Admirer, _

_Who are you? How do you know me? As for your question, no I did not end up eating the chocolates. I threw them away, actually. One has to be prepared when faced with mysterious objects from an unknown source. _

_ Rachel_

The clowns jumped at the loud, abrupt laughter that ensued upon reading the letter. It was hilarious that she automatically threw away his oh-so-generous gift without a second thought. She probably assumed the chocolates were poisoned and that this was one big joke. Naturally, she was right. The poison injected was simply a very powerful sedative that would cause the victim to be in a comatose unlikely to ever wake. He knew, though, that she was far too intelligent to take it, hence the letter. Her curiosity and paranoia would be her downfall.

"Yo, Boss!" A voice behind him called him to his attention. He turned, annoyed, and pressed a knife into the interrupter's gut.

"Didn't your mother tell you to never distract a man when he's reading? It's very rude, you know," he growled and turned back to the letter. He pulled out a new piece of paper and a pen, replying. Once he was done and placed it in the mailbox, he sauntered back to the car and they drove to the now ruined Narrows. The Joker had a visit to make.


	2. Chapter 2

Rumor is that an Italian by the name of Luigi Maroni was trying to take over the Mob. Not on his watch. For now, though, he'd have to stay low and keep recruiting more men, namely the escaped Arkham patients. At least, those who were intelligent enough to follow orders with a large wad of cash waved in their faces. They weren't hard to find, either, since his fellow criminals had the same idea. But, the Joker has something that the Mob doesn't: the ability to wield fear. Sure, the Mob knows how to instill it, but they don't know how to delve into the deep recesses of a person's mind and bring out the corruptness within with just a sentence. For now, the Joker would just wander around and find out if the rumors were true.

"Hey, clowns! Why don't you entertain us a bit, eh?" A heavily accented drawl from his left said. He glanced sideways and recognized two of Falcone's men headed their way.

"Why, we'd be delighted, wouldn't we boys?" Out of the corners of eyes he saw his two clowns nod, smiling masks hiding their knowing smirks.

"Have a seat, fellas," the Joker said, gesturing toward the crates nearby. The two took him up on the suggestion.

"Do ya like magic tricks?" They nodded, "wonderful, my specialty. Now, I want you on the left to focus on my knife, you on the right to focus on my friends."

The Clown Prince drew a knife from a pocket and spun it around in his hand, all the while walking closer to the man on the left. The other two clowns started to juggle their guns in front of the one on the right. Falcone's men were easily distracted to turn back to back from each other.

"Now, watch closely. I'm going to make the knife _disappear_."

In one fluid motion, the knife flew from his hand and straight into the man's eye. Screaming, he dropped to the ground while the clowns shot the opposite dimwit. Licking his dry lips, the Joker approached the wounded Mob member and yanked out the knife and urged him to shush.

"There, was that entertaining enough for you?"

The man whimpered, staring wide-eyed with his now single eye.

"_Answer me!_" The Joker yelled as he grabbed the man's face with one hand and pointing the bloody knife in his victim's face with the other.

Tears streamed from the man's face as he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Who do you work for, hm?" The knife inched toward the good eye.

"N-no!"

"No? I'm not very familiar with him."

Another blood-curdling scream erupted as the other eye was stabbed.

"You don't seem very happy. Shall I put a _smile_ on that face for you?"

The Joker yanked his knife through the cheeks of the already bloodied man's face, laughing in the process.

"M-Mar-o-ni," the man squealed out.

"Oooh, now him I'm familiar with. See, that wasn't so hard!"

With a final motion he slit the man's throat and stood, giggling all the way back to the car. The rumors were indeed true.

"_Oh honey, I'm home!" Shouted a gruff voice laced with drunken slurs from the living room. The young boy of nine looked up at his mother in fear as she stood to go greet her husband. Silently, he followed to watch from the hallway. _

"_Where's my dinner, bitch?" The overweight and smelly man demanded. _

"_It's right there, dear, on the table," the boy's mother said calmly. His father turned to look at the lone plate and freshly opened bottle of beer waiting for him. _

"_You ate without me, did you? That's not what I told you to do!" _

_Cowering in terror, the little boy watched his father go for his mother with a fat fist. Normally he wasn't this bad; he figured the abusive man had had an unsuccessful day at work or lost a bet at the bar. _

_Suddenly, his mom grabbed a kitchen knife to defend herself, putting her body between her husband and son. _

"_Oh, so you think you can swing a knife ah me, eh?"_

_Laughing, the drunk grabs the knife and stabs his wife in the heart while his son watched in absolute horror. Then, he turned to his son. _

"_Why so serious? You ought to follow my example and be happy. Let's put a smile on that face!" _

_He grabs his son's face and slowly carves a curved line from each corner of the boy's mouth, creating a Glasgow smile. Still laughing, he drops the knife and the screaming boy to go get another drink. _

_Choking on his own blood, the boy sits up and coughs and splutters. Then, he notices the knife on the floor near him. Glaring murderously at his father, he grabs the bloodied kitchen utensil and charges his assailant. Before he can do anything, the elder man is stabbed right in the small of his back. As he howled and doubled over in pain, his son stepped back in shock. Not at his own actions, but in shock that he _liked _the feeling. He felt rage overtake him once more and stabbed over and over into his father's back. Half screaming, half laughing in shock, he found himself dragging the knife in random patterns. Somehow, he knew he wasn't aiming to kill. Yet. _

_The boy heaved his father to turn over so he could see his blubbering, flushed, pain-stricken face. He thought back to what the main had said only moments ago about following his example, and carved a matching Glasgow smile into his fat face. Then he stabbed him repeatedly in the heart and it was suddenly silent, save for the boy's labored breathing. He pulled the knife out of the dead man's chest and stared at it, then staring at the profusely bleeding wounds that were beginning to halt. _

_Sirens broke the silence. They were growing closer with every wail, bringing the boy back to his senses. He ran. He ran until he fainted from blood loss, the rain washing the blood from his body. From then on he lived on the streets, cared for and mentored by the Mob. _

The Joker's eyes snapped open. He was momentarily confused until he realized it was only a dream. Well, a memory precisely. If he was doing his math correctly, that should've been about eleven years ago, and the very first time he'd ever dreamt about that particular event.

Eyes narrowed and a frown upon his lips, he sat up and looked in the mirror to make sure his greasepaint "mask" was still on.

"You okay, Boss?" One of his men asked from the doorway.

"Okay? _Okay? _I'm absolutely _ecstatic! _After all, it's time to pick up my mail!" He said gleefully and giggled with excitement as he sauntered out the room. Two of his clowns followed, slightly afraid but generally used to the Joker's attitude. It was about six A.M., an hour before the mailman delivered to Gotham City Apartments, particularly Rachel Dawes' mailbox. The Agent of Chaos simply couldn't wait to see her reply.

The young woman in question had, indeed, replied to her "Secret Admirer." He'd said:

_Dear Miss Dawes, _

_ Why, my identity wouldn't be a secret if I told you now would it? And as for how I know you, let's just say upon first glance you interested me. Now, why would you throw away such delicious treats that I went out of my way to buy? After all, there was the matter of getting your address and secretly leaving the box on your doorstep as well. You could be a little more grateful. How about flowers, next? _

_ Your Secret Admirer_

The man seemed sweet and intelligent, she thought. But, some if not most people are different in person than in the written word. Rachel spent a decent amount of time thinking on how she would reply, still reluctant to decide if this was real or not. Going on impulse once again, she wrote back:

_Dear Secret Admirer,_

_ You have a point. And I'm sorry, being a D.A. in a city like this does make one skeptical of secrecy. You could very well be a mob boss, a pawn of one, a fellow employee, a random citizen, or even a woman and I don't even know it. That's what makes me paranoid. _

_ Rachel_

_ P.S. Surprise me with the flowers._

Telling him to surprise her probably wasn't the best idea. Heck, they could be laced with poison ivy or something to make her ill, or perhaps even dead. Maybe if she told Bruce about it…

She jumped when her phone rang, but relaxed as she picked it up.

"Rachel Dawes," she answered automatically.

"Hey," said a familiar deep voice.

"I was just about to call you, Bruce," she said with a smirk.

"Oh, really? What for?"

"I've been getting these letters and presents from a secret admirer. It wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Me? Nah, I wouldn't be secretive about something like that. What kind of gifts?"

"So far, chocolates. He said he'd send flowers next."

"Definitely not my kind of thing. I'd buy you the entire chocolate factory!"

Rachel laughed, "I figured. But, what if it's someone out to get me?"

"Why would someone want to get you? Falcone's in Arkham and I doubt any of his men really care about it."

"Hmm, good point. I may just be over thinking it, then. It's probably just that Harvey Dent guy that's running for D.A.; he's been flirting with me since he met me."

"Yeah? I'll do a check on him."

"Oh, Bruce!"

"Kidding, relax. Just be careful alright?"

"I will. What'd you call for, anyway?"

"Just checking up on you."

"Well I appreciate your concern, Bruce, I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm alright. Batman hasn't had much to do lately, I'm afraid, so I'm terribly bored. Care to go to dinner tomorrow?"

"Sure, as long as you don't bring two supermodels with you," she joked.

"All right, I'll pick you up at seven then. See you tomorrow," he said with a chuckle.

"See you then."

Rachel clicked the "End" button and put the phone back on the stand. Yawning, she strode to the window and peered outside at Gotham. It was a beautiful city at night; shame it was filled to the brim with criminals and corrupt government officials. A movement down by the sidewalk caught her eye. She made out a silhouette of a figure near the mailboxes. Gasping, she opened the window and called out to him.

"Hey, wait!"

The figure paused, turning to face her. She couldn't see him, just the outline of his tall, lanky body. She could, however, see the reflection of the lamplight several yards away from him in his eyes.

"Who are you?" She called out. He didn't respond, but merely bowed and strode away. She wanted to follow him, but in a second he was gone.

Admitting defeat, Rachel huffed in frustration. He was so…strange. Why didn't he let her at least hear his voice if he didn't want her to see him? With a sudden thought, Rachel realized that her situation was slightly similar to that of the Phantom and Christine in _Phantom of the Opera. _Remembering that she had a day off tomorrow, she smiled and put the movie on.

She ended up falling asleep during the credits, but slightly awoke when she felt a pair of strong arms pick her up and carry her to her room. As soon as she touched the bed she fell immediately back into slumber, not noticing covers being pulled over her and a leather glove move the hair from her eyes. She also did not notice the soft whisper in her ear that said,

"You really shouldn't keep the window open, Miss Dawes."


	3. Chapter 3

When Rachel woke the next morning, she did not remember even falling asleep on the couch. She assumed she had gotten up, turned the movie off, and crawled into bed while half-asleep. Humming the main theme from the movie, she fixed herself a bowl of cereal and sat down to watch TV. Apparently, there was another violent Joker killing that night. Two Mob members, one mutilated in the face and the other shot, were the victims. Rachel groaned; more reports for her to sift through tomorrow.

_I wonder if my Secret Admirer has replied,_ she thought. Curious, she went to go check the mail and, oddly enough, found no red envelope. She scanned the rest of her mail for the reply she expected, but it just wasn't there. The D.A. pouted, trudging back to her apartment in a gloom.

Rachel thought about their encounter last night again. His bowing shadow replayed over and over in her mind. Compared to the Phantom, all he needed to do was sing and he'd be an exact clone minus the cape. Her wandering mind thought of the scene where Christine takes off the Phantom's mask and he says she will never be free of him because she has seen his deformed face. If Rachel were to see her secret admirer's face, would he haunt her forever?

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts; there was nothing there but a vase of a lovely assortment of flowers. She smiled, noticing the familiar red envelope next to it. Gingerly picking up both, she set the flowers in the middle of the counter and proceeded to open the envelope.

_Dear Miss Dawes,_

_ I hope you are not allergic to any of the flowers. And as for your list of possible people I could be, I can assure that I am not any of them, especially not a woman. Before you ask, yes, that was me last night out on the street. Enjoy the flowers, and try not to throw them away this time. They're harmless, I swear. _

_ Your Secret Admirer_

_ P.S. Don't leave your windows open at night. _

She stared at the P.S. at the end. So what she thought was merely a hallucination had actually happened? He'd been _inside_ her apartment? Maybe he just climbed up the fire escape and closed it for her, and being carried and tucked into bed was a dream. Yes, that had to be it, she told herself. Gazing absently at the flowers adorning her table she thought of what to say to him next. Then, noticing the red roses in the arrangement, she had an idea. Smirking mischievously, she found a blank piece of paper and wrote furiously. When she was done, she noticed that she'd covered the entire page and smugly put it in the red envelope, making a mental note to drop it in the mailbox before Bruce picked her up tonight.

"Why would I want your drugs?" The Joker asked with a raised eyebrow at the man masked in a cloth bag in front of him.

"My hallucinogen creates the victim's worst fears—"

"I_ know_ what it does, but what would I need them for?" The clown interrupted.

"To create panic and fear amongst the rest of the Mob and rise to the top, obviously."

The Joker laughed hysterically, "I thought _I_ was funny, but you, Scarecrow, are hilarious."

When the Scarecrow said nothing, he laughed even more.

"Oh, you were serious? Here, let me show you what I think about being serious," the Joker motioned to his men and the grabbed Scarecrow by the arms before he could defend himself. The ever-smiling man walked around the table and ripped off the mask while giggling. Jonathan Crane glared at him, unafraid of the knife materialized in his face.

"Do you want to know how I got these scars?" Crane shook his head slightly, but the Joker gripped his chin and made him nod. "See, I was at the dentist one day. I knew for a fact that my dentist was crazy, but nobody believed me. He tells me to smile so he can see my 'pearly whites.' I say no. Well, he doesn't like that. Not. At. All." Crane winced as the Joker's foul breath and yellow teeth came dramatically closer.

"He grabs two of the little pointy things they scrape your teeth with, and he says to me: so you don't know how? Here, I'll_ teach you_! He sticks them in my mouth and yanks them across my face, making these," gesturing at the scars. "Now I'm smiling all the time!" the Joker said with a laugh, noticing Crane's shaking.

"You see? I don't need drugs to be scary, I'm pretty confident in my, uh…_abilities_," he trailed off into mad laughter.

"Then use them to get Rachel Dawes to quit her job," Crane demanded.

"That cute assistant D.A.?" The Joker asked innocently with a trademark giggle.

"I happen to know that she's working by herself to figure you out."

"Hmm, I'm a love interest? Interesting," the Joker giggled even more.

Crane scoffed, resulting in having the knife dug into his neck even harder.

"You like experiments, right doc?"

"Yes, why?"

"How about we play a little game, hm? I'll be the doctor and you the patient. Now, I'm going to carve you up with pretty designs and see how long you live."

"Wait! I need your help!" Crane cried desperately.

The Joker sighed, disappointed. "What do you want?"

"Help me kill Rachel Dawes."

"Why?"

"Because you'd enjoy it; I'll pay you however much you want."

"Tsk, all you people care about is money! I'll do it, but I need something from you besides money."

"What?"

"Recruitments."

"Deal."

"Good, bye-bye now!" The Joker motioned for his men to throw him out. Once he was gone, the Joker looked at the time and ordered one of the clowns to go get Rachel's reply. _This will be _very _interesting, _he thought.

If he was to have Rachel all to himself, he could do whatever he wanted with her. He could reveal his identity as her secret admirer and watch her jaw drop in horror and disbelief. He could torture, violate, humiliate, trick, kill, anything! Or…he smirked. He could drive her insane and make her become like _him. _A beautiful, intelligent female partner would certainly make his life a whole hell of a lot more fun. He giggled excitedly as he imagined them killing and creating chaos together, dancing and laughing insanely surrounded by explosions all around them.

The ecstatic Joker began to dance a waltz with an invisible Rachel, humming a random tune. The clown he'd sent to collect Rachel's letter stopped in the doorway as his boss dipped his imaginary partner. Should he get the Joker's attention? Or risk death by interrupting his good mood? Suddenly, a jet of air flew past his ear and he heard a loud thud in the wood next to him. He glanced in terror at the knife protruding from the door frame, then at the man who threw it.

The Joker had a frown and raised eyebrow upon his painted face. Clearing his throat nervously the clown's follower approached him with the letter outstretched in his hand. His boss snatched it from him and opened it, eagerly reading it.

_Dear Secret Admirer,_

_Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye._

_Remember me, once in a while please promise you'll try._

_When you find that once again you long to take you heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me._

_We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember stop and think of me._

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen, don't think about the way things might have been._

_Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned._

_Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind._

_Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never day._

_There will never be a day when I won't think of you._

_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we._

_But, please promise me that sometimes you will think of me._

_Rachel_

The Clown Prince of Chaos frowned. He knew he'd heard that tune somewhere before…ah! Phantom of the Opera! Of course, she'd been watching it that night when he put her in bed. _How very clever, Miss Dawes, _he thought. If that's the way she wanted to play, then he can surely play along with that mushy lovey-dovey crap. Going through his mind and chewing on the inside of his mouth, the Joker tried to remember the lyrics of that one song where Phantom sings to Christine about the night. Aha!

_ Dear Miss Dawes,_

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation._

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination._

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses._

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor._

_Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender._

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day,_

_Turn your thoughts away from the cold, unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night._

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams,_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before._

_Close your eyes and feel your spirit start to soar_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before._

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you._

_Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you._

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness that you know you cannot fight._

_The darkness of the music of the night._

_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world,_

_Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before._

_Let your soul take you where you long to be._

_Only then can you belong to me._

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication._

_Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation._

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music that I write,_

_The power of the music of the night._

_ Your Secret Admirer_

Now that was some impressive memory right there. The song was perfect, too, for this point in their "relationship." He knew she was clever enough to take the lyrics literally, asking her to trust and descend into his darkness. If she agreed, he would begin her transformation into his counterpart. Should she disagree and attempt to cut him off, he would kill her without hesitation. The only reason he was keeping her alive now is because she was entertaining and would probably be useful in the future.

He sent the letter with a follower and continued to imagine Rachel as an agent of chaos like himself. She'd probably decline the proposition of theatrics, but then again she might change her mind. If he could harness that type of authority in Gotham, he could very easily infiltrate and buy out followers. Suddenly, the Joker was very appreciative of his clever mind for picking Rachel Dawes of all people. The only reason he'd even picked her was because she had been doing a little too much research on him, possibly becoming a nuisance in his grand future plans. That's when he came up with the idea to distract her.

Rachel Dawes didn't seem like the type to fall for a secret admirer, let alone exchange witty banter with one during this point of time in Gotham. She didn't even take the letter for fingerprints! Not that there were any, of course, he'd made sure of that. Then again, idealist district attorney or not, all women were the same. When they get unexpected attention in a mysterious form, they can't help but be enthralled with curiosity. Woman's curiosity has always been theirs and man's demise. For instance, Pandora and Eve are primary examples; they can't help but want something they cannot or shouldn't have because they are curious about the reason why it's forbidden. Rachel, for instance, shouldn't have a secret admirer that just happens to know her daily schedule, yet she does anyway.

The Joker licked his cracked lips, relishing the metallic drops of blood that had surfaced there. He thought back to the time when Batman had personally given Rachel everything she needed to charge Falcone and his men. The caped crusader could just as easily have given it all to the current D.A. at the time, but instead chose the assistant.

Maybe…maybe the Batman and Rachel know each other. He thought back to watching the scene at Arkham: Batman had specifically saved Rachel and made it a secret between him and Lieutenant Gordon. Oh, this is too fortunate! His two specific targets are in league with each other! _Ah, don't jump to conclusions_, he told himself. He had to test his theory first, and Crane's plan was the perfect opportunity.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the course of a month, the Joker and Crane (mostly the latter) spent an ample amount of time carefully planning the opportune moment to take Rachel. Fortunately for them, the city was holding a grand costume masquerade ball tomorrow night in celebration of Gotham's birthday. Crane was eager to get his revenge, but the Joker persuaded him to wait. He needed the Scarecrow to get in the Mob's ranks as a distraction as he made his own way up the power pyramid.

The Joker's grand future plan, after all, was not to be disrupted. He had two months to go before it was set into action. Right now, he was a nobody and hardly a nuisance to anyone but Rachel Dawes. The two pen pals were still going at each other daily, and by now the entire city (thanks to a gossiping neighbor) knew about it. It was now a popular joke amongst Rachel's friends and colleagues that every man she spoke to could be her secret admirer, even though everyone figured it was Harvey Dent. Recently, he had asked her out boldly to the masquerade. Naturally, she accepted although she secretly hoped her scarlet letter companion wasn't Harvey. Gotham's rising White Knight or not, he seemed almost too absorbed into his job. For Rachel, that was a bit of a turn-off even though she herself occasionally let her work take over her life. Her type was definitely her secret admirer: smart, funny, love for the arts, justice, creative, fun, and mysterious.

~*~Night of the Masquerade Ball~*~

As Rachel began getting ready for the masquerade, she wondered if her secret admirer would be there. All of Gotham was invited, so he very well could be. He didn't mention anything about it in his letters but she didn't exactly ask either. Would he recognize her? Surely he would, she's going to be dressed up as Christine with Raoul. What if _he_ showed up as Phantom? _Oh God, Harvey would hate that!_ She thought with a chuckle. As she put on her dress and started on her hair and make up, she realized something: she didn't have a mask!

"Christine" groaned loudly, mentally kicking herself for forgetting something necessary for a masquerade. _Maybe they'll have free cheaply made ones there just in case? _Oh well. She went ahead and fixed her hair in Christine's style: long, luscious curls pulled away from the face with a bow. Her dress, naturally, was a replica of the one from the masquerade scene. Harvey would be dressed accordingly as Raoul, Christine's fiancé.

_Knock, knock_.

Rachel turned and went to answer the door with a puzzled expression; Harvey wasn't due to pick her up for another half hour. On impulse she looked down and gasped: there lay delicately on the floor was Christine's mask.

"Of course he would," she breathed in awe. She combed the hallway for any sign of him but naturally there was none. It was a handheld mask, light peach colored like her dress with a single rose near one of the eye holes. Strangely enough, her secret admirer didn't leave any sort of letter with this gift. _How much did this cost?_ She wondered, _how can I repay him? _If he was at the ball, the least she could do is treat him to a dance.

The next half hour was spent touching up and thinking about dancing with her secret admirer. Harvey eventually showed up, looking dashing in Raoul's fancy soldier-like outfit. He offered his arm very gentlemanly-like to escort her to the car, opening every door along the way.

"Are you excited?" Harvey asked.

"Oh, very much, I've always wanted to go to a masquerade! What about you?"

"To be honest I'm nervous."

"Why?"

"Well for one, I'm terrified of public officials," to which Rachel and Harvey both laughed. "And because I'm escorting the most beautiful girl in all of Gotham," he continued with a smile.

Rachel blushed furiously and decided she had indeed wrongly judged the running District Attorney. On the way to the ball, the pair sat in awkward silence; each wanting to say something to start a conversation but not knowing how to say it. Anyone could tell they were nervous just being with each other. Thankfully the place where the ball was being held wasn't a far drive from Rachel's apartment, so the silence was short. Upon seeing all of the traffic Harvey decided to let Rachel out at the front while he found a parking spot.

The inside of the ballroom was magnificent. It was the Beast's, Phantom's, Cinderella's ballrooms all in one glorious combination. The floors were painted like pure gold while the ceiling shone with sleek silver, the walls a split combination of the two. A grand chandelier hung in the center with miniature versions forming a circle around it. In the back, there was a grand glass balcony overlooking the skylines of the night obscured by two gigantic French doors. It was simply breathtaking.

Rachel eventually recovered from the shock of the beauty of the room and decided to look for some familiar faces while she waited for Harvey. This quest was unsuccessful seeing as how every person in the room wore a mask and a costume. Clutching her own precious mask to her bosom, she strode over to the snack table lined with all sorts of food: colorfully assorted fruit, chips, pies and cakes of all kinds, cookies, finger sandwiches, breads, salad, and an entire table devoted to a rainbow of drinks. Fortunately the lonely attorney was found by a few friends from the police department and struck up a conversation.

It was only when one of them asked if she had a date did she realize he had yet to show up. _Surely it couldn't take _this _long to find a parking spot,_ she thought with worry. Deciding to scan the area one more time she excused herself from her colleagues and took position at the drink table.

"Are you here alone Miss Christine Daae?" A deep, unfamiliar voice inquired.

"No, I'm waiting for…" she trailed off as she turned to see the most handsome man dressed as the Phantom. A strong and masculine jaw, flawless face, and perfect facial features were the first things she noticed. Next, his eyes were a deep brown, almost as black as his slicked back hair. The eyebrow un-obscured by the half-mask rose with interest at her reaction.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss…?"

"Dawes, Rachel. I'm the Asisstant District Attorney."

"Ah, of course; you look very different with curled hair," the "Phantom" said with a chuckle.

As if on cue, the familiar trumpets of the "Masquerade" medley from their costumes' origin came on. Rachel and her new acquaintance smiled at the coincidence.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked with a gentlemanly smile.

"Sure," she answered breathlessly.

She placed a dainty hand in his gloved one and he gracefully led her to the floor. The crowd parted for them recognizing their outfits from the movie. The two began the dance with the lively gait of a waltz, twisting and turning across the floor. Rachel kept avoiding his bottomless eyes and kept her own on her feet to avoid stepping on his.

"You're dancing with me, not your feet," he commented with a smirk. She smiled and blushed in embarrassment, but still did not meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded with a slight edge that Rachel didn't catch. She obeyed and fell completely into his spell. He led her with one hand into a twirl, pulling her back into his strong arms with a sudden tug. It felt like a dream to her dancing with this gorgeous man; _this scene should have happened in the movie instead!_ She thought. At the same time, she felt a little like Cinderella with the time limit of making sure she found Harvey while she was not dancing with another man. But, she almost didn't want her date to show up. Dancing with this stranger was worth a thousand dates with Harvey Dent.

As the song ended, he dipped her so low that her hair almost grazed the floor. The entire room applauded them, turning Rachel's face into a bright red tomato. Noticing her embarrassment the Phantom stranger led her outside to the balcony, whispering in her ear that they should get some fresh air. Together they breathed in the cool rush of oxygen from the crisp night; the song had been eight minutes long, after all, they were worn out. The cloudless sky showcased a billion shining lights in the heavens, Rachel noticed, and leaned on the railing to watch them. The mysterious man in black joined her, gazing up with wonder.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" She asked.

"Indeed."

A comfortable silence passed between the two as their faces pointed toward the glistening night. Hardly ten words had been spoken from both combined, yet the quiet wasn't awkward like it had been with her and Harvey.

"I forgot to ask your name!" Rachel suddenly realized.

"Oh, it's—"

Before the fateful words could be uttered, darkness in the form of scratchy black cloth appeared over their heads. Within seconds they breathed in the chloroform soaked in the material, and they were unconscious. Several black figures dragged the motionless forms off the balcony and onto a lift used for power lines, quickly lowering the contraption to the ground and shoving them in the black van waiting for them.

"Your game has begun, Joker," said Crane as he saw the figures.

Little did he know that the game had begun long, long ago.


End file.
